Good news, bad news

Happy Face I don’t have to wait until the afternoon of Christmas Day to read the autumn Terry Pratchett

Sad Face I have to buy it myself

Happy Face No-one tells me “that dress is really unflattering from behind”

Sad Face I can’t tell when what I’m wearing is really unflattering from behind

Happy Face My bank balance is nobody’s business but my own

Sad Face Paying off the mortgage is up to me

Happy Face Sex is dirty again

Sad Face It can also be infected

Happy Face Buying erotica at the bookshop is a symptom of how liberated and sexually at ease I am with myself

Sad Face Sometimes flirting with the guy at the till in the bookshop is the nearest I get to an erotic encounter

Happy Face Someone else will raise his teenage kids

Sad Face Someone else is raising his pre-schoolers

Happy Face I can use any colour I like to paint the bedroom

Sad Face I am the one who has to paint it

Happy Face I don’t have to choose Christmas and Birthday presents for his family

Sad Face I no longer get the gossip about his sister’s latest lunacy

Happy Face I can eat pasta with pesto every night for a week if I want to

Sad Face I am putting on weight

And finally:

Happy Face The loo-seat is down when I go to the bathroom

Happy Face Nope. There isn’t a downside to that one

3 responses to “Good news, bad news

  1. A very nice list of pros and cons — and the final one is where I’d go on bad days (and on good). Best, BL

  2. Thanks bloglily – to be honest even though he’s a lovely guy it is only the trivial things I regret, like having to do the gloss painting as well as the emulsion. Other than that, I prefer the way I am now. 🙂

  3. Mother of God, empress of the universe


    I’m an entrenched ssssssssssspinster, with cat.

    The joy is that, when I want to shoot off on a two weekmountaining expedition of ‘observing the fullest flower of fall foliage, circumscribed by the glowing azure and blazon aspects of campfires”
    I can just go out in the woods, snuuuuuuuuuuurffffffff the air, c’llect leaves, build a campfaaaaar, and harve a few martinis whiiile the sparks die down, and not *worry* bout what anyone else things ’bout the whole ordeal. And that’s the awesome thing about being



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